


Snowflakes

by c0mf0rt_z0n3



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Baking, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Draco studies Potions, Fluff, Harry thinks he's very nice and Mature, Laughing Potions, Luna Lovegood is a Good Friend, M/M, Magic Snowflakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28183461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c0mf0rt_z0n3/pseuds/c0mf0rt_z0n3
Summary: When an invitation for a ‘not-Christmas’ Christmas Party, hosted by Luna Lovegood, shows up at Harry Potter’s door, he must prepare to put himself back out in the world and talk to the people he hasn’t since the war. Including, but not limited to, Draco Malfoy. Who is certainly not looking radiant and gorgeous tonight. And why do these muffins taste so funny?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	Snowflakes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to ‘Snowflakes’, a Drarry Christmas story. It’s been a while since I wrote something, so please bear with me. I would greatly appreciate any comments or criticisms about this, so feel free to leave those! Hope you enjoy it! Cheers!

It was snowing. A layer of white was dusting the grounds outside of Grimmauld Place. Harry could feel the chill it brought in the air, even when he was safe inside the Black family library. Evidence of Death Eater ransacking still littered the rooms of the ancient house. Even so, it was still the easiest place for him to call home. It had already been multiple months since Harry’s purpose had been fulfilled and Voldemort had been defeated. He still felt tired and empty, the same sort of feeling that he got after the Battle of Hogwarts. The only difference now was that he had lost interest in seeing anyone. Even Ron and Hermione had been ghosted for the larger part of two seasons. Letters from them (from all his friends) were thrown, unopened, on a table in one of the house's many sitting rooms.

Harry Potter, as great as the stories about him boasted he was, felt he was a terrible coward. He had, without warning, holed himself up in Grimmauld place with only Kreacher and the angry portrait of Walburga Black to keep him company. Walburga’s cries of dismay were better than the mounting pressure of being the Boy Who Lived Twice, Harry reasoned to himself. He pulled his lethargic form out of a dusty old chair with a great deal of effort. A loud groan echoed around the library but he couldn’t tell if it had come from him or the house settling. Harry made his way along the dusty bookshelves, what seemed like hundreds of them in an endless, winding maze. He read the spines of books as he went, searching for something new to read. Harry never used to be that type, but he had picked up a few boring history volumes from amongst the piles and piles of Dark Arts textbooks. There was nothing bloody better to do anyway.

Harry knew that if he went out into the magical world, people would expect things of him. Speeches and appearances and comforting words, but he knew he wasn’t really meant for that sort of thing. Much better to leave it in Hermione’s capable hands, she handled all that rot brilliantly, Harry had read about in the papers. Hermione was always busy with something. A new project or initiative with Ron or Ginny or someone else by her side, backing her up. She didn’t need his help at all. It was like Harry was stuck on pause while she and the rest of the people he cared about were playing at double speed, finding career paths and making new friends. Number twelve Grimmauld Place was silent and empty and Harry was definitely feeling sorry for himself now, there was no way out of it. He was doomed to spend the rest of his life as a sad shut-in who spends his days letting people down. Biographies would be only 7 pages long, one page for every year of his life that actually meant something. He could wallow away the remaining hundred-or-so snoozing in his fancy four-poster bed.

Harry was just about to make the trip upstairs to half-heartedly enjoy a bath when a loud coo sounded from the front door. ‘Another letter,’ he thought grumpily, ‘great’. Another letter meant an even heavier weight on his conscience.

The cooing noises continued and as he neared the front door he realised it wasn’t an owl at all, but a pigeon. He chuckled, to think he was about to open the door to take mail that wasn’t there. Except that it must have been there because the corner of a bright green and red striped envelope was being pushed into his mail flap, seemingly by the pigeon. No, it had to be just a very small owl, trying its best. Harry jerked the door open and stared in shock. Talons hanging on for dear life on his door knocker, leaning down to push open the small flap with its beak was a pigeon. A regular, London city pigeon.

“Uh-huh,” Harry said, in false understanding.

The pigeon noticed him and flew off the door, landed on his head and dropped the letter. Harry caught it and tried to look up at the bird but it was already in the air again, it had used his head as a take-off point. Harry was about to walk back inside to the ‘letter room’ to plop this one with the rest when he caught sight of the handwriting on the envelope, it was Luna’s. Wavy with a hint of elegance, the letter was addressed to: 

‘My Friend: Harry James Potter - Wherever he may be’

He brought the envelope closer to his face to examine it and was immediately assaulted by the smell of pine and gingerbread. It made for an unholy combination.

“Geez, did Luna drop this thing in a bath of Christmas spirit or something?”

Right, Christmas. Harry knew the time was coming in theory, he felt the chill and ate the fruit cakes Kreacher was making for him but it had yet to occur to him that there was any more than that. Celebrations, gifts, decorations, general festivities. Festivities he was supposed to attend, to spend time with friends and family. He looked up at the shiny world he had neglected for months on end and there it all was. His muggle neighbours had clearly spent a great deal of time decorating the whole street with lights and mistletoe which, Harry had noticed, had prompted a young couple to start really going at it on a bench right outside his house. He skirted inside quickly and shut the door behind him, red-faced from the cold (and the embarrassing display). A pang of loneliness rang off inside his heart and he realised how long it had actually been since he talked to any other human. 

“Kreacher!” Harry called into the empty hallway. A loud popping noise.

“Yes, master?” 

“Can you please move all of the letters from that sitting room,” he pointed over Kreacher’s head, “to my bedroom?” 

Kreacher seemed to age a couple of years as he caught sight of the huge pile.

“Please?” Harry amended immediately as if that would help the elf.

“Of course master.” Kreacher drawled.

  
  


The letters took a whole day to go through and a melancholy feeling washed over him as the pile got smaller and smaller. Harry only skim read the ones detailing how concerned people were about how he was, he focused on the personal news ones instead, because those didn’t make him want to cry like a baby. He learnt about all of Ron and Hermione’s romantic escapades, along with Hermione’s million and one moral missions. He learnt that Neville had taken an apprenticeship under Professor Sprout and was hoping to one day teach Herbology. He learnt that Dean and Seamus had decided to escape the country for a bit together and head around Europe on a ‘Bro’s Trip’. He learnt that Ginny was very excited to return to Hogwarts the following year to finish her education and was helping rebuild. All of this without him.

And finally, when it was the only one left on the table, he ripped open the offensively festive striped letter (carefully delivered by pigeon) and learnt about Luna’s Christmas party. 

_My Dearest Friend Harry,_

_I am ever so excited to invite you to a festive get together I am holding. Do not be mistaken, however, this is not a Christmas Party. We will, instead, be celebrating the much more important holiday of The Great Pastry Exchange. A historical day where our ancestors would share around boxes of biscuits and cakes as a sign of comradery! Daddy used to tell me stories about the many wars won by love thanks to The Great Pastry Exchange! I’m sure you will share the same excitement as I do about the event._

_To properly celebrate, of course, please bring a pastry of your choice to share around in the name of friendship and forgiveness! (I’m going to bring my family's famous Hyena muffins. That’s a surprise though)._

_Please RSVP whenever you feel emotionally ready to,_

_With much love, your friend_

_Luna_

On the opposite side of the piece of parchment were an address and time. Harry stared blankly at the letter and turned it over in his hand. He missed Luna and he was realising just at that moment how much. Deep down, he knew he couldn’t hide here alone all his life. He was in dire need of some socialisation, perhaps on a smaller scale before the party as a bit of practice. Harry pulled a quill and some parchment out of a drawer in his room’s antique desk, working on auto-pilot. Before he really even knew what he was doing he had already put ink to paper. ‘ _Dear Luna,’_ he wrote, _‘of course I’ll be there’_.

* * *

Hermione and Ron were incredibly happy to see him, to say the very least. When the floo in the main sitting room flared up a day later all Harry saw was a flash of brown bushy hair and in that same moment, arms were tightly wrapped around his middle. Ron came through a few seconds later, carrying a container full of what Harry recognised as Molly Weasley’s ever so famous Christmas fudge. He beamed up at Ron and carefully pried Hermione off him, who was staring up at him with tears in her eyes.

“You arse Harry Potter! How could you just walk out on us like that?” Harry was starkly reminded of this time last year and felt shame crawl in his insides as he thought of how distraught Hermione had been over Ron’s disappearance. She didn’t look all that angry at him though, certainly not as angry as she had been at Ron. He saw understanding lingering in her eyes, masked behind the sadness, frustration and relief. As far as an explanation went, Harry didn’t have much to say. He had drafted lines in his head all morning, anything he could say to not come across like a total knobhead. Nothing expressed it all quite right so he simply shrugged and said in the most apologetic tone he could manage, 

“I’m really sorry, I guess it’s just what I thought I needed. I’m back now though! I’ve really missed you guys.”

Ron fixed him with a stare that he felt saw into his very soul but kept his mouth shut and then smiled at him, for which Harry was insanely grateful. There was nothing else he felt he could say. Hermione didn’t seem nearly as satisfied but Ron came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. She seemed to understand what that meant and neither of them said anything else for a while like they were having their own psychic conversation. ‘Love is weird.’ Harry thought as he took the container out of Ron’s hand, pulled out a piece of fudge and sank into it happily. It tasted stupidly sweet, but most of all, it tasted like Molly’s love. 

“So are you guys going to Luna’s Christmas party?” Harry asked, mouth still full. He spoke more for conversation's sake than anything else. It seemed Ron and Hermione had forgotten where they were and that Harry was standing not even a metre away. They pulled out of their rose coloured love daze as he spoke. 

“Of course, and it’s not a Christmas party,” Hermione replied after a moment. She finally moved away from Ron and sat down on one of the dusty sofas.

“Yeah mate, it’s a ‘Biscuit Party’ or something,” Ron piped in, laughing, “how she comes up with this stuff, I’ve always wondered!”

“Don’t be rude Ron! And it’s called ‘The Great Pastry Exchange.”

“Whatever it is, it’s a bloody good excuse to drink alcohol and eat way too many sweets, so I’m down.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and Harry laughed at his best mate, nothing had changed about him it seemed, not really. They chatted more while Kreacher came in to push carefully made sandwich platters into their hands. Hours went by but with them all together but it felt like only a few minutes. Eventually, they drifted back to the topic of the party again. 

“She’s invited just about everyone in her year and ours,” Hermione told him, “I know for sure that Ginny and Neville will be there, and apparently Seamus and Dean might spend a couple of days back in Britain for it.”

As Hermione listed more and more supposed guests Harry’s nervousness spiked higher and higher. There was going to be so many people. So many questions from everyone and answers Harry didn’t know he could give. Ron noticed Harry’s brow deepening and coughed.

“‘S no stress! Just a small get together, you can spend the time hanging around us if you like. We’ll hide you behind our backs!” Ron gave him a playful wink and Harry tried to give a meek laugh at his joke. A look of realisation flashed on Hermione’s face.

“Oh, of course, Harry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put any pressure on you! Really, it’s just among friends!”

Ron scoffed. Harry looked up at him quizzically and caught Hermione giving Ron a look of ‘for-the-love-of-Merlin-shut-up-you-blithering-moron’.

“What?” Harry looked backwards and forwards between the two. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing Harry! Nothing to worry about at all!” Hermione visibly thought about her words for a bit after she said them, which was odd because she usually did that sort of thing before speaking. She sighed and looked him directly in the eye.

“Well,” she began slowly, “I wasn’t going to tell you this at all. I thought it would change your mind about going and I think it’s really important for you to socialise now that you’re ready! And anyway, it might not be true at all! It’s really just a rumour…” She trailed off and looked up at Ron with pleading eyes. Whatever this ‘rumour’ may be, she thought Ron would be able to handle telling Harry better, which was not a good sign at all. 

“It’s not a huge deal mate, just a theory going around that’s all. See, Michael Corner, you remember him right? Yeah, well, he said to Hermione and I that he heard from Lavender that she had maybe heard Cho saying that McLaggen had been told by Neville that Luna had maybe, possibly, sort of, invited… uh, Malfoy.”

It took Harry an embarrassingly long time to decipher what in Godric’s name Ron just word-vomited on the floor. Tenseness fell on his face with the grace of an elephant doing a pirouette as that last word, last name, settled in his brain.

“Oh, I knew he’d take it poorly!” Hermione gestured to Harry emphatically. Ron was quick to continue, reassuringly.

“Only a rumour mate! Even if Luna did invite him there’s no way he’d actually have the guts to show his face now! Not after how he acted during the war.” Ron sounded sharply more savage by the time he finished speaking.

What would Harry even do if Malfoy did show up? He didn’t feel the same hatred towards him, he didn’t exactly know what he felt. No one had heard anything from Malfoy since the war, some say he fled the country, never to return. Harry had never thought about it very much. He was too busy sulking in his own sadness.

Ron checked his watch and gave a startled noise, Harry jerked his head up and looked at him. “Blimey! Is that the time? Sorry mate but we better get going.”

“It’s formal dress, by the way,” Hermione said as she and Ron began to take their leave.

“It’s Luna, how formal can it possibly be?” 

Hermione sighed and gave Harry a fond look, shaking her head but smiling.

“I’ll take you robe shopping tomorrow, Harry, and help you pick something out. It’ll be fun!

Harry groaned and Ron laughed.

“You’re coming too, Ronald!” Hermione called as she took a handful of Floo Powder.

Ron groaned and Harry laughed.

Once both of them were well gone, and Harry was helping clear their empty sandwich plates with Kreacher, he couldn’t help but notice he felt a lot happier. The presence of his two best friends gave him new strength, he just hoped it was enough to face the large crowd at Luna’s party. Sadly, he didn’t think any number of hours with Ron and Hermione would give him the strength to face the possibility that _he_ might be there.

* * *

It occurred to Harry only the afternoon before that he did actually have to bring a pastry to share for ‘ _The Great Pastry Exchange’._ What had Luna mentioned in the letter that she was making? Hyena muffins? Like the animal? Harry hoped not but, because it was Luna, he didn’t completely rule out the possibility. If Luna was going to hand-make something, Harry better do the same thing.

The kitchen was surprisingly tidy when he walked in, a few old recipe books tucked under one arm. Harry had found them stuffed in the very back of a bookcase, they were falling apart in his hands but there had to be something good in one of them. Kreacher was standing on a wooden crate over one of the great big sinks and looked up at the sound of floorboards creaking. The old house-elf looked surprised to see him.

“Do you... need something Master?”

“Uh, no, I’m good. Hey, actually, I was wondering if you could,” he thought for a moment, “clean the very top floor for me? The whole floor. Right now.” He added.

Kreacher gave him a withering stare but dropped the potato he had been peeling and hobbled out of the room. Harry felt bad watching him go but he would have felt worse if Kreacher thought he had some obligation to make some stupid dessert for him. Harry made a mental note to make sure the kitchen was spotless for his return. At least this way he was caring for the ancient Black family residence instead of baking for Harry’s ‘lowly’ friends.

“I should have asked Hermione what she was bringing,” Harry muttered aloud half an hour later, as he scooped handfuls of spilled flour into a small bin. “Or at least asked her to help me.” But honestly, her dragging him and Ron up and down Diagon Alley last week had been enough of her unintentional bossiness. He had never spent that many galleons on one outfit in his life. Harry had already forgiven her for it in his mind though. It gave him a strange sense of comfort to hear Hermione sigh and say, “Honestly!” while sending a loving glare to Ron’s back (as he retreated to return the ugly, orange ‘Chudley Cannons’ sweater to the rack it came from). 

The first batch of so-called ‘biscuits’ that Harry took out of the oven was a complete and utter failure and Harry remembered then that there was a reason why it was always him doing the brunt of the cooking and Aunt Petunia making the fancy, posh desserts. The bin was looking decidedly fuller as he scraped yet another tray into it. It took him a miserable three hours to make something even half edible enough to give to other people. 

Harry looked down at the demented biscuits shoved into a Tupperware container. Feeling sarcastic, he muttered out a terse, “Brilliant.” He was not feeling very optimistic about the next day.

* * *

Harry stared up at the large, densely decorated archway that was being used as an entrance. A very pointless one since the party was being held outside and completely in the open. Luna hadn’t mentioned in her letter that it was an outdoor event, it felt too cold to be. The noise of the crowd was palpable, most of the guests must have already arrived. Or at least that’s what Harry hoped because there were just so many people, all talking in tight-knit cliques. He looked around, semi-frantically, to try and spot Ron and Hermione and fit in just as well but he couldn’t see them at first glance. He’d have to venture deeper into the party, Harry thought glumly.

“Hello, Harry.” 

Harry swung around and spotted Luna Lovegood behind him, smiling in that pleasant, whimsical way that only Luna could. He relaxed his shoulders and greeted her with a nod.

“How are things going then, Luna? Is everyone here?” He asked, trying not to sound too desperate or hopeful.

Luna shook her head and Harry took a silent, deep breath to dispel the lump in his throat.

“Oooh, are these the pastries you’ve brought to share?” She was looking at the container in his hands and Harry was suddenly very embarrassed about the quality.

“They look wonderful Harry! Would you like me to accompany you to the exchange table?” 

“Uh, sure.” He didn’t really know what that meant.

It felt a lot nicer to walk in with Luna than by himself, Harry’s body was almost completely un-tensed by the time they had made it to the long table. It was covered in all matter of delicious looking pastries. Harry recognised Hermione’s handwriting labelling a dish ‘apple crumble’ and plonked his container next to it. 

“So how does the exchange work then?”

“Oh, you just put your pastry dish down and then sample others whenever you feel like it!” Luna plucked a random eclair from the table and took a small bite. That sounded a lot easier than whatever image Harry’s mind had conjured up, which mainly involved holding hands and skipping in a circle with a plate of pastries balanced on your head. Before he could make any more small talk, however, Luna had drifted off to the next guest like a fairy gliding through the mist and Harry was left alone to take in his surroundings.

The whole area looked like an outdoor Yule Ball. ‘Sort of like Bill and Fleur’s…’ Harry’s brain supplied, oh so helpfully. He managed to squash any ‘not fun’ memories by pouring himself a glass of something that looked like punch but smelt like hot chocolate. Harry’s stomach wasn’t quite settled enough to take a sip just yet, so he held the glass awkwardly and looked around. He was in a giant plain, no less than two football fields in size. The place was very well decorated. It seemed like Luna had made a point not to put up anything that looked too Christmas-y. This was, after all, not a Christmas party. Floating, glass snowflakes dazzled ten feet above them like weirdly shaped disco balls. Lanterns carrying bursts of blue fire lined the trimming of a large tent in the centre where tables were laid with plates and glasses. The table of pastries was under its own, special tent off to the side. People were everywhere, dressed in their very best robes. Harry was suddenly happy Hermione had forced him to go out shopping, otherwise, he would have looked like one of the waiters (who were carrying around trays of empty plates, presumably for collecting one's selection of pastries).

Something wet feeling dropped on Harry's nose then. Startled, he put his finger on where he had felt it land, but the spot was completely dry. In fact, Harry’s whole body was comfortably warm now, like the tiny snowflake was embedded with a microscopic warming charm. It was snowing, dryly, warmly. The other guests must have noticed too because delighted gasps and laughs echoed in the night air. Luna looked very proud of her magical efforts and generously accepted a multitude of compliments.

Harry had started scanning the area again, for anyone he was comfortable with talking to when the whole place became deathly silent. A stark contrast to the joyous energy wafting in the air only moments ago. Laughter was replaced with whispers and Harry’s heart started racing. Everyone must have finally spotted him and were spreading rumours, or, maybe some dark entity had decided to crash the party and he was expected to fend it off. His eyes darted this way and that and finally settled on the archway entrance.

Snowflakes danced in the air, heavier now, falling gracefully on Draco Malfoy’s neatly styled hair. He had an apprehensive look on his aristocratic, pointy face. He closed his eyes for a moment and then reopened them, smiled and glided his way over to Luna. Every eye in the place followed him closely. He acted like he hadn’t even noticed the defensive quiet or the scrutinising stares, just kept on walking until he was towering over Luna. She was beaming up at him like she’d found out he’d hung the stars in the sky. 

“You came! Oh, I’m so glad Draco.” Her voice boomed in the stillness. “Did you bring something for the exchange?” 

Draco turned slightly red and pulled a box of macarons from out of his robes. 

“Wonderful! You can put them over there!” Draco followed her elegant finger to the pastry table. “Please do enjoy yourself!” and just like that she strolled over to someone else and began talking, kickstarting the crowd into a tense conversation.

Draco spotted Harry then, still standing awkwardly next to the punch bowl. Their gazes lingered on each other for a moment before Draco switched into gear and walked confidently over to him, or rather, to the table. 

“Hello, Potter.” 

“Malfoy.”

“You’re looking well.”

“So do-” Harry took a moment to take Draco in. He looked good, pretty even. He was smiling but not in his usual proud way. It was small and didn’t reach his eyes, which was the only thing eluding to any discomfort at all. A sort of smile that made Harry want to do anything he could to make it widen, even a little. Maybe if Harry tried for a cartwheel while burping the national anthem his eyes would crease and his teeth would show, “-So do you.” He jerked out. Draco’s smile did widen, just the tiniest bit. 

Talking with Draco was surprisingly pleasant. It was all still drowning in politeness but it was nice to have someone to spend the time with. Even as Draco detailed his potions apprenticeship in France, a topic that would normally have him yawning and looking for the nearest exit, Harry found himself enthralled by how passionate Draco was. He blushed when Harry commented on how excited he seemed to be learning about healing potions.

“Yes, well, I’d like to help people. As opposed to the opposite, I’ve had rather enough of that.” 

Harry smiled at him. “You want to be a healer then? Here or in France?”

“Here, if I’m not run out with torches and pitchforks.” Draco surveyed the crowd nervously like they would attack him at any moment. They probably would, given half the chance. 

“That’d be cool, having you here,” That sounded sort of odd, “I just mean, I’ve missed you, in a sort of, like, weird way” That was even worse you knobhead, “I, well, no, I guess I meant-” He felt like a fish out of water, flopping around uselessly.

Draco laughed and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It’s okay Harry, I know what you mean, you don’t have to explain yourself. I’m looking forward to moving back to London if I can.”

Wonderfully confusing butterflies erupted in Harry’s stomach for all sorts of reasons. Draco had said his name for one, his first name. And he’d laughed and touched him. His hand was warm on Harry’s shoulder, it drifted slightly down his arm before Draco pulled it away. He instantly missed it. Right now, it didn’t matter to him that he hadn’t yet managed to find Ron and Hermione, he was comfortable here, with Malfoy. At every word the other spoke, Harry felt his chest warm more and more. In an effort to even out his softening facial features, he scanned the table of desserts beside them and noticed a dish of bright purple muffins. There was a sticker on the plate that read ‘Lovegood’s Hyena Muffins’ in big bold lettering. He leant over and picked one up to inspect it. Draco broke off mid-sentence and his eyes went big. 

“Oh no, don’t eat that!” he rushed out as Harry brought the muffin to his mouth but it was too late, he had already taken a large bite. He looked up at Draco who was staring at him like he was anticipating something awful to happen. ‘What’s the matter? They’re just Luna’s muffins,’ he wanted to say. Before he could get a single word out, his face had broken into a manic grin and he just could not stop laughing. Loud and unashamed, he laughed so hard that he started to clutch his stomach in pain. He laughed until his sides were burning and his eyes watered. Through the tears, he could see Draco watching him, sympathetically. 

“Oh, to hell with it.” He whispered and plucked his own muffin from the plate and popped it into his mouth and then Draco was laughing too, just as loudly as Harry was. If anyone had turned to look at where all the noise was coming from, neither of them noticed. 

Feeling around desperately for some kind of support, Harry’s hands came into contact with a hard surface and he instantly put his full weight on it. Through boisterous, never-ending, laughter he heard a crack and at that moment he was falling to the ground. When he could breathe again, he was lying on his back, covered in various creams and sauces. It dawned on him that the flat surface he had leant on was the exchange table and that it was not as stable as first anticipated. He was still laughing, slower now. He could now hear Draco’s laughter over his, from where the man was lying next to him, equally dirtied. It made Harry laugh harder. 

“I’m very sorry boys, but I’m going to have to ask you both to take an early leave.” Luna looked down on them with her hands planted on her hips. She looked more amused than angry, as he and Draco were unceremoniously booted out of the party area and out of the warming charms. They were lying in the snow now, facing up to the stars.

“The hyena tree, or the Alihotsy tree, is a plant whose leaves can produce bouts of uncontrollable laughter.” Draco panted each word out, trying to breathe through small giggles. Harry looked over to him and watched him wipe a tear away. His stomach flipped over. A real snowflake drifted onto his face, cold and wet. It cooled him down pleasantly and he started to regain some of his senses. 

“We should do this again sometime.” Harry blurted out without really thinking. _Some_ of his senses indeed.

“What?” Draco was still getting the last bits of laughter out. “Destroying poor, unsuspecting Pastry Exchange parties?”

Harry would have smiled then if only his cheeks weren’t burning with the wrath of a million suns. A boost of confidence came to him with Gryffindor valour.

“Actually I was thinking something more along the lines of a date? You and me?”

Draco didn’t say anything for a few moments, just breathed heavily. Harry was about to retract what he’d said and play it off as some sort of sad joke when Draco scooted closer and put his hand over his. 

“Sure Harry, I’d like that.” 

Even if Harry’s cheeks were sorer than they were, nothing would have stopped him from smiling as wide as he did at that moment. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this short festive story! Happy Holidays!


End file.
